


I Want Us

by neck_mole



Series: Carry On Countdown 2018 [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hotels, Light Angst, M/M, POV Simon Snow, Post-Canon, Simon Snow's Wings and Tail, Snowed In, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 09:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16762390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neck_mole/pseuds/neck_mole
Summary: “So much for meeting up with Penn, huh?”“She did answer my text,” he begins, pulling out his phone and unlocking it with a swipe. “Said she’s snowed in for at least the next three days, especially as the storm rolls past.” He thumbs over the texts before glancing at me and sighing. “At least we booked the room until Friday.”-Snowed in hotel rooms and promises for the future.





	I Want Us

**Author's Note:**

> Carry On Countdown 2018 Day 3: Abroad
> 
> (tagged teen and up because the sort of heavy kissing, but that's it)

“Granted..” Baz mumbles, pushing the curtain back as he peers out over the city to, watching the snowflakes begin to settle. “We  _ probably _ should’ve considered the fact that we’d booked to visit Penny in  _ Chicago _ during the middle of winter…”

I page through the telly’s channels, head resting in my palm as I scroll. The screen flickers to life between each page, a split couple seconds of sound as the title roll through. I stop at a local news station, dropping the remote beside me as I sit back.

A cheerful woman in a tight dress is rambling off about the weather, somewhat insultingly upbeat chimes playing as she goes on about snow totals and how much it’ll be. A lovely four feet in total over the next few days, and it’s coming in thick. Lovely.

Beside the bed, Baz flops back into a seat as he scrubs his face, hands laying above his eyes as he sighs. He peers over his fingers, glancing at me with a tired expression. I swing my legs over the side that he’s on, watching him as I tug my hair back.

“So much for meeting up with Penn, huh?”

“She  _ did _ answer my text,” he begins, pulling out his phone and unlocking it with a swipe. “Said she’s snowed in for at least the next three days, especially as the storm rolls past.” He thumbs over the texts before glancing at me and sighing. “At least we booked the room until Friday.”

My hand reaches out to wrists, locking around one of his hands as I tug it towards me. He sets down his cell and keeps an eye on our joint movements, watching our locked hands travel to my lap. “Suppose we’ll just spend the next week going mad in a hotel room.”

“Sounds an awful lot like hell; you’re a tit and a bore to spend time with.” There’s no bite to his voice, and when I catch his eyes, he’s grinning at me like some lovesick fool. 

“A nightmare to be around,” I reply softly, tugging his hand closer and causing him to lurch forward. I lean in, pecking his cheek before lacing our fingers together. Automatically, he leans into it, eyes shutting as he lingers against me. It takes a full few seconds before he pushes himself up and settles back on the bed beside me, hand trickling down my back and pushing the fabric away from the split between my shirt and my jeans. His hand settles against my skin as he kisses me, his other hand flying to my cheek and tracing patterns onto me.

Our knees bump as I nudge closer on my hip, body turning towards his. My hand captures his hair, pushing in under the bun he’d put up for the flight and tangling in the somewhat strained strands as I pull his head closer. He does that little thing I like with his tongue before he pulls himself back and leaving me to whine out a complaint as his eyes traveling down my face and neck. He latches himself on it.

Baz seems to hyperfixate on my neck; he once told me that he used to think about it so much that it just feels unfair to not kiss it now. Every time he dives for my neck, I think back to sixth year; to him staring at me from across the room. I used to think he was plotting my death, but it was actually him tracing out where his mouth would go if he only had the opportunity.

The hand pressing to my back trails down towards my tail, tugging it out of my jeans and wrapping it around his wrist as he presses onwards. I let out a noise, tucking my face into his messed hair as his lips kiss up and teeth graze my earlobe.

Oh shit. I push him away, slightly tense as I stare into him. “How’re you going to feed if we’re snowed in?”

He blinks, startled by my abrupt stop. “I didn’t quite think of that,” he says in a bit of a daze, his eyes wide. “ I could try to hunt off in some nearby alley. It’s unceremonious, but city rats are blood nonetheless.”

“Why would they go out into the snow?”

“There’s always dumpsters, Snow.”

I make a face. “You’ll dumpster dive?”

He slowly untangles his hand from my tail, fingertips running along it as it slides from his arm. “I’ve done it before, and I can always shower after. I’ll just wear your clothes while I do it.” I smack him on the arm, my eyebrows drawing together.

“Excuse me for being concerned about your wellbeing,” I grumble, frowning at him. “I haven’t got much else, besides Penny and the existence of dinner, so I’ve got to look after you.”

His face goes borderline soft at my comment, gaze losing its edge as his thumb traces my jawline. “Sorry,” he says back in a murmur before going silent. He’s thinking.

I think that’s my favorite expression of his; in thought. Not because he’s quiet then or anything (despite it being an added bonus), it’s just that he always looks so deeply into my eyes whenever he’s thinking, even if it’s not me on his mind. Hell, even in the first few years of uni, he’d get particularly stuck while working and just come up to look at me, lock his arms around my waist, and stare. At first I was a little unnerved, but it got to be endearing. I’ve never asked him why; I should probably ask him why.

“Why do you stare at me when you think?” I ask. It comes out as a whisper, barely even loud enough for any normal person to hear.

He snaps away from whatever’s going on in his mind at the sound of my voice, raising his eyebrows as his head tilts. “I’m… sorry?”

My hands busy themselves with untying his bun, shaking out the strands so I can run my fingers through them properly. “Whenever you’re thinking,  _ really _ thinking, you stare at me. Like,  _ really _ hard. It’s almost like there’s a puzzle on my face, and you’re trying to solve it. Then you usually just hug me and kiss my cheek before actually going on with whatever you were doing.” I tug at a little knot, feeling it come undone with ease. “I don’t dislike it, I’m just wondering.”

He stays silent for a moment, head staying tilted as I play with thick sections of his hair. “You’re calming,” he says after an eternity of staying shut, eyes flicking around my face as he speaks. “You used to be chaos to even witness, but now I just like to stare because I’m allowed to. It feels good to. It’s nice, having a single constant in my life that I used to be so scared to look at, but is now mine to keep.” Both of his hands rest against my sides, thumbs rubbing the fabric.

It takes me a minute, clearing my throat as I nod. “I… wow.”

He chuckles warmly, leaning in to press a kiss to my cheek and staying with his lips brushing against my skin. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs before pressing another kiss down. “I don’t really expect an answer.”

We sit there in silence, my hands woven around his locks as I nod again.

As he pulls back, he shifts in his seat before easing my grip away from him. “I need to hunt before it gets too bad.” Standing, he fixes his shirt and trousers. “I won’t be long; get comfortable while I’m out. We’ll be in here for an awful while.”

I watch as he goes, making sure he has a room key and his phone. He swoops down, pressing a kiss to my head before excusing himself. I don’t watch, listening as the door clicks shut behind me.

The windows stay shut as I undress. I steal glances of myself through the mirror, getting caught in the reflections.

The spells on my wings wore thin; they’re visible now, clear as day and fully exposed. I extend them once, letting them stretch after hours of being bent together and getting all stiff. It’s sort of like when you’re sitting for too long and your legs get all numb or prickly and wobble a bit. That’s my wings. It’s weird; some limbs I didn’t think I’d asked for, but oh well. Here they are.

My jeans change out for my sweats, leaving everything else discarded (including a top) away into the luggage. After a minute of clueless searching, I find the hotel’s binder in plain sight, sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch.

I flip through, scanning room service and trying to figure out what’d be best to order (because it’s either this or delivery and I do  _ not _ have the energy to deal with a proper delivery service right now).

By the time Baz makes it back, I’m sprawled out on the bed and carefully reading each option in the menu, scanning the tiny details and the serving hours to everything (I’ve read it three times already, but I’m just making sure). He creeps in as silently as possible, but I lift my head to greet him and give him a loose smile as the exhaustion from an eight hour flight hits me (well, that and the jetlag). The shades remain drawn, keeping the room at a controlled darkness as I stare up at him through lamp-light.

He gives me a smile back, slowly stripping off his blazer, then following his shoes, socks, trousers, shirt, all down to his boxers, to which he grabs trackies and a tee shirt to replace them with. Without a word, he steps off into the bathroom, and I hear the shower turn on.

I never quite ask where he hunts, even at home. Partially because I’d rather not intrude on something he’s not that keen on sharing, but also because I feel like I’d be a little grossed out thinking of where he’d need to hunt to stay hidden enough. There’s clearly a reason why he showers after every hunt, so I don’t pry. I just leave it and welcome him back warmly when he comes to join me.

He wraps himself around me from behind, face settling on my nape as he reads quietly. It’s a bit of an awkward fit; his arms always have to rest around my lower sides, and my wings have to fold in so he can look around them, if he wants to, but we make it work. We’ve always made it work; we make everything work.

His wet hair drips onto my shoulders, face pressed to my skin his arms lock tightly around me. He smells like travel body wash.

“What do you want?” I ask, a hand settling against one of his.

I can feel his exhale against me, his body caving towards mine as he peers at the list. “The baked chicken sounds fine.” His fingers push apart, letting mine fall into place between them as I sigh, relaxing against him.

We spend a few moments slumped against each other, my time occupied by listening to his breathing and his continuous calming rise and fall of his chest against me. It isn’t until my stomach growls that I actually pull back, leaning across the bed to dial up the number provided on the sheet to order, giving them our room before hanging up and turning towards Baz. Silently, I tuck myself into his neck and cuddle shamelessly up to him, his hands dragging up and down my bare back.

There’s nothing I’m more thankful than for silence. At the beginning, I was afraid of scaring him off with how much I prefer just staying like this. How much I prefer not talking, but he accepts it all. He accepts being my comfort spot, being a nice extended period of not speaking, but rather just being there. He accepts it all.

I don’t know how I ever got so lucky.

I doze off before the food gets there, and I’m startled by the knocking. Sleepily, I peel myself away and let him get the door as I stand out of clear sight (because Normals usually give me strange looks; these wings look like ridiculously good prosthetics and it’s always odd to be asked why I’d be wearing them decoratively for absolutely no reason). Baz exchanges quick pleasantries with the worker before bringing in the food and resting it over the coffee table. Once it’s safe, I step out and just flop onto the floor, digging into my own food and sighing happily.

He mirrors me, sitting across the table on the floor with his legs outstretched underneath and bumping into mine innocently. We exchange smiles as we tuck into our meals respectively, hands outstretched between us and meeting to hold.

I finish my plate a good while before he does, and I’m a little more than guilty of stealing bites off his.

He lets me, though. He always lets me. I think I can get away with just about anything with him.

As he’s finishing up, I drop his hand and go to turn down the bed for us, fluffing the pillows as I yawn. Despite it only being about six (the sun’s properly sunk out of view now), the midnight feeling of London still tugs at my mind. It’s clearly getting to Baz too, his bites slowing down to sleepy nibbles.

Never really dropped the habit of chewing with a hand over his mouth. I don’t dare stop him; we all have our little comforts, and if it helps him feel better, I can’t intervene.

“Come on,” I whisper as he swallows down his last bite. “I’m lonely over here.”

He pushes his plate and silverware forward, hand still locked over his face. “Shouldn’t we clean?” It’s muffled.

Shrugging, I snag him by his bottoms once he’s standing close enough. I give him a quick tug onto the bed. “We can do it tomorrow, I don’t feel too strongly for cleaning right now.”

He rolls his eyes, keeping his mouth tightly shut as he cuddles up to me wordlessly.

We press up to one another, falling into our usual sleepy silence, which almost convinces me that he’s fallen asleep before he lets out a quiet “What are we doing, Simon?”

It’s like I’m blindsided by a truck. “What are we… what?”

Slowly, his head lifts with his shoulders from me. “I mean,” he starts, “we’ve been together for years now, but we just don’t talk about the future. Albeit, I didn’t quite think there was a real  _ future _ a couple years ago, but now here we are. So… what now?”

I blink, jaw open.

It’s one of those things I don’t think about. Not because the worst case scenarios, but rather a “Take life by the balls” sort of reasons.

If you don’t plan for the future, you’ll never be disappointed about the consequences.

“I… I don’t know.”

He rolls his eyes, mumbling something along the lines of a quick “Of course” before exhaling and shaking that thought clear. “I phrased it wrong,” he says gentler, catching my eyes. “What do you think you want in the future, Simon?”

My hands stay flat against his back, my mind searching before I speak. “A nice place where you can hunt without being as afraid of people catching you. Maybe a backyard, so we can have pets to run around there. I… I guess I always wanted the domestic bullshit; sounded so sweet compared to what I had growing up. “ I stop, chewing on my lip. “I want us. You. Like, I can see you sitting there with me, doing this… thing. Whatever we want. Us being us.”

He ghosts his hands over my chest before settling against my shoulders, thumbs grazing my collarbones. “Us being us?” he repeats, as if for confirmation. I nod without a second thought.

“Good.” He comes out short, but his voice is gentle, resting in the air only between us. “I want an us too. I’d sort of hoped we’d have an us, after all. Not like it was that bullshit Watford Curse if we did break up, but in the way that I love you, and I always have.” 

I grin at that, nose wrinkling as I whisper back an “I love you too”. His soft smile in response is all I need to really relax, exhaling slowly as I stare at him. He’s right. It is calming. “How do you feel about living in the countryside?”

He shrugs somewhat like I would, closing his eyes. “I’m happy wherever you are, but you shouldn’t feel the need to just move out there because of me.”

“It’d make  _ me _ happy to have you comfortable,” I run a hand up and down his spine, “that’s what I want.”

His smile spreads farther across his face, head leaning forward and resting once again against my shoulder. “What… about a family?” he whispers.

“As in, children?” He nods. “I… suppose I haven’t thought of it? I mean, when I was with Agatha, it felt  _ expected _ . Now, though, I don’t give a thought to it; mainly because I don’t feel that ridiculous pressure anymore. That’s all. But I wouldn’t be opposed.”

He keeps pressed against me, holding me around my waist. “I’m just curious, that’s all. Not proposing anything yet.” He nuzzles more into my skin, yawning against it. “However ‘us’ is, I’m happy with it. Us is us, additions option.”

I giggle at that, tugging him closer as I yawn back .”Additions optional,” I agree sleepily. “Okay, I’m… I’m gonna sleep. I’m tired.” He gives me back a laugh; a lazy, tired laugh.

“Okay, my love. Sleep tight,” he utters against me, to which I respond with likewise as melt into our bed. We stay blocked out from the unfamiliar world outside, covering quickly in a heavy blanket of snow.


End file.
